


You Are The Kind Of Thing (That I Could Love Forever)

by green_feelings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Short but sweet?, alternative universe, and kinda smutty?, this is short I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_feelings/pseuds/green_feelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on <a href="http://www.humansofnewyork.com/post/136159556206/its-our-first-date-we-met-on-fire-island-i">this</a> prompt. I varied it a little, because Harry's a baker, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are The Kind Of Thing (That I Could Love Forever)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazkaban](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazkaban/gifts).



> For Hazkaban. I'm sorry it turned out to be this short. I basically tried out every prompt you've given me, but was never satisfied with what I'd written for the other prompts. I hope you'll like it, even though it's not the longest fic. I tried o make it a little original, and hope you'll enjoy the read. <3
> 
> Title is from James Arthur's New Tattoo.

“Harry, put that down now.”

Niall crossed his arms, giving Harry a stern look. It wasn’t very convincing since Niall looked anything but threatening, but more like an angry Christmas elf. In fact, Harry couldn’t even remember a single occasion in the five years he had known Niall that he had been scared of him.

“You said there weren’t plans for tonight.” Harry took the dough out of the bowl to roll it out on the kitchen table. “So I thought I could bake some biscuits for you and your flatmates.”

Niall rolled his eyes, sitting down on one of the chairs. “That’s very kind, and I’m sure Christine and Marco are going to love them. But you can make them tomorrow.”

“I can’t leave the dough in the fridge for a whole night, Niall.” Harry shook his head, rubbing some flour onto his hands. “It’d go to waste.”

“Mate,” Niall said, apparently trying to gather some patience. “You’re in Paris for only five days. And you wanna waste a night you could be out baking here by yourself?”

“If I had known---”

“Plans change, okay?” Niall interrupted him, standing up again. “People make spontaneous plans sometimes. And it just so happens that Monique spontaneously asked us to go out.”

Harry sighed, letting go of the dough. He knew Niall was right. He was only here for five days, visiting Niall during his exchange year in Paris. They hadn’t seen each other in more than four months, and Harry had only three of those five days left. He should use it to spend as much time as possible with Niall.

“Okay.” He went to the sink to wash his hands. “But I’ll take the dough. We can eat it on the way to the pub.”

“Club,” Niall corrected, hugging Harry from behind. “We’ll go dancing. But do take the dough if that makes you happy.”

“I’m just happy to spend some time with my best friend.” Harry turned to hug Niall back. “Although said best friend will waste our time together by hooking up with some girl.”

“As if!” Niall shoved Harry’s shoulder lightly. ”You’ve got priority while you’re here.”

“That’s what you’re saying now,” Harry said, starting to clean the kitchen.

“It won’t be a problem, if you pull someone, too.” Niall wiggled his eyebrows.

Harry took off the pink rose print apron he had borrowed from Niall’s flatmate. “You’re horrible. I didn’t come here to have one-night stands.”

“It wouldn’t hurt, though.” Niall made for the door, looking at his watch. “We’re leaving in fifteen, so get ready.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry put away the ingredients for his biscuits, cleaning the kitchen. He got changed afterwards, putting on another t-shirt and tying his hair up in a bun. Niall was already waiting by the door when he came from the bathroom and Harry hurried to pick up the dough.

“You really wanna take it?” Niall asked, locking the door from outside.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t wanna have some of it?” Harry held out the bowl.

Niall shrugged, tugging off a bit of dough. “Not gonna say no.”

“Are we meeting the others there?”

“At the club, yeah,” Niall answered.

Harry followed him down the stairs and they walked in silence for a while, eating the dough. It was warm outside, much warmer than London ever got. Generally, the air in paris was different. It was always mild. Even when the sun wasn’t shining and at night.

Harry loved the flair of the city. The people were friendly -- at least most of the time -- and that architecture was stunning. Every time he went out, he discovered something new; a small bakery in a backstreet, or a little shop for knick knack. He envied Niall for getting to live in this city for a year, but he was just as happy to know he’d get back to London, where every custom and fashion was familiar.

“You know they won’t let you inside with that bowl, right?” Niall asked when the club was in sight.

“I can try.” Harry hugged the small bowl closer to his chest.

Niall just rolled his eyes, but Harry knew that he wasn’t really annoyed. To his surprise, the security guy in front of the club did ask something, but let Harry pass anyway. He looked back over his shoulder, making sure the guy really wouldn’t come for him.

“What did he say?” he asked Niall as they paid at the entrance.

Niall shrugged. “The same thing people say say every time they see you. He’ll let it pass because you’re cute.”

Harry giggled, eating some more of his dough.

“Niall!” A girl came rushing over, gripping Niall’s arm. “There you are, love. What took you so long?”

Niall pointed over his shoulder at Harry. “Harry here was a bit busy baking.”

“We ordered you drinks already.” The girl held out her hand for Harry. She had long, dark hair and was at least two heads shorter than Harry. “I’m Monique, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Judging from her accent, Harry guessed that she was from a German-speaking country. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Harry.” He held out the bowl. “Dough?”

She looked a little confused and shook her head then. Harry shrugged and followed Niall to the table that Monique led them to. He greeted all of the other people, introducing himself to them. Most of them were from different European countries, such as Germany, Sweden, Belgium and Poland. Harry talked to a girl from Denmark for a while, letting her teach him some Danish.

The music was loud, the drinks strong and just as Harry had seen it coming, he was on his own after less than an hour. He stood aside, still having bites from his dough every now and then and watching the people. Around him, the few bits and pieces of conversations he could hear were all in French, and he had lost sight of Niall completely.

Shaking his head, he watched the crowd of dancing people, until he noticed that not too far away, another person apparently shared the same destiny. He was probably Harry’s age, not quite as tall and seemed very dainty. He had his arms crossed and watched the crowd just like Harry had until a few moment ago.

Harry popped another piece of dough into his mouth and let his eyes wander over the stranger’s body. He had curves. His legs were clad in skinny jeans, the black fabric torn at his knees. He wore a white shirt with a skull print and his hair was falling loosely over his forehead, looking slightly dishevelled. The jeans were rolled up at his ankles and he wore worn-out trainers. It didn’t look like he had dressed up, and yet, the style was such a look on that body.

The boy noticed him, taking his eyes from the dancefloor to look at Harry. He tilted his head slightly, cocking an eyebrow. Harry was confused for just a second, not sure how the gesture was meant, but then he decided to smile. He hadn’t done anything wrong, after all.

The boy smiled back and moved a little closer, so that only a bit of space was left between them. He didn’t say anything, though, and Harry decided that screaming over the music wasn’t worth finding out that the boy couldn’t understand English and only spoke French. And even if he did speak some English -- this was not the kind of place to have a conversation to get to know one another.

So instead, they just shared their fortune of being left alone in a club, not feeling like joining the crowd and waiting for their respective friends to finally decide it was time to go home. Harry didn’t mind the company, even if it was silent company.

After a moment, he held out his bowl, wordlessly offering the boy some of the dough. He cocked a brow again, a mischievous grin spreading on his face, but he extended a hand and ripped some of the dough off. He nodded with a satisfied expression, giving Harry a thumbs up. Harry felt himself beam and held out the bowl again.

For a while, they stayed like that, watching the crowd and sharing the dough. When the bowl was empty, the boy shrugged at Harry and a soft smile played around his lips. He turned his face again, and Harry noticed in the dark light of the club that he had long lashes throwing shadows over his cheekbones. He tapped his foot lightly to the music, apparently enjoying the song.

Harry was about to open his mouth and ask him to dance when a girl appeared by his side. She grabbed the boy’s arm. “Tu viens, Louis??”

Louis, Harry thought as the boy stumbled after her. The most stereotypical French name. He turned again and gave Harry a quick wave and a bright grin. Harry waved back, watching him disappear into the crowd.

Even though they hadn’t talked, probably wouldn’t have been able to hold a conversation, something about silently sharing dough with that stranger boy Louis had been nice. Something had just fit. Harry hummed to himself, wondering if language made any difference in understanding.

With a light swag in his step he joined the crowd to find Niall.

~*~

Harry would have forgotten about it; about the encounter with the French boy named Louis he had shared biscuit dough with. He would have, if he hadn’t seen him again right the next day on campus.

Niall had been showing Harry around, and Harry had spotted the familiar face in the cafeteria. He had wanted to go over and try his luck again, see if maybe he could talk to Louis, but Niall had grabbed his wrist in that moment, tagging Harry with him.

“We’re missing the bus,” he had said, looking at his watch. “And we need to be on time for my lecture. Come on!”

Harry had thought it had just not been meant to be. Until he had spotted Louis two minutes ago. Niall and his flatmates had decided to throw a house party because Harry was going to leave early the next morning. His flight was booked for eight thirty, and his suitcases were already standing packed in Niall’s room.

Harry was also pretty drunk. He sat on the sofa, surrounded by strangers talking all kinds of different languages, with a cold drink in his hand and his eyes set on Louis. Just as when Harry had met him in the club, Louis looked more than simply attractive. He wore dark, skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and a chequered, red button-down with its sleeves rolled up. He had a beer in one hand and was talking to a guy with ginger hair.

Harry could tell the exact moment Louis noticed him, too. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Louis took a double-check, eyes roaming Harry’s face and body before he grinned. Then he lifted his beer in a cheers gesture and Harry returned it, smiling at him. Louis winked before he turned and left the room to go to the kitchen.

He had winked. Harry felt it run through his body, all of his nerves burning up with the sensation. That boy was just perfect, a beautiful sin, and Harry wanted him -- even if it only was a taste.

He was drunk enough to give it a shot.

Standing up, he emptied his glass and put it down on the table. He had his eye set on the kitchen door and made his way through the crowd in the living room. Someone bumped into him, spilling a their drink onto Harry’s shirt and he lost focus on his mission, looking down on himself.

“Mist! Tut mir Leid!” A guy said, looking up and down Harry’s torso, a now empty glass in his hand. “Ich mein… “

“No worries.” Harry shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t looking where I’m going either.”

“Should I help you clean it?” The guy offered.

Harry shook his head. “I’ve got another one here, don’t worry.”

The guy apologised again before Harry changed his course for the bathroom. He’d better rinse the alcohol and juice mix out of the shirt, or his suitcase and all of his other clothes were going to reek of it.

The bathroom door was locked, of course, when he reached it, so he waited for a few minutes. Inside, he took off his shirt and soaked it in the basin, rubbing the fabric with his hands. Only then, Harry noticed that he hadn’t had anything to change into. He should have gone to Niall’s room first to get a new shirt before soaking this one.

Sighing, he rolled his eyes at himself. He left the shirt over the heater in the bathroom and decided that no one would notice he was shirtless if he sneaked out quietly and got changed in Niall’s room.

When he opened the bathroom door, he stopped short in his tracks, his heartbeat picking up rate. In front of him stood Louis, arms crossed and a mischievous smile on his face. He took a step closer, so Harry stumbled one back. Louis closed the door behind himself, the clicking sound loud in Harry’s ears.

Before he could register anything else, Harry had a warm body pressed against himself, and feverish lips were claiming his own. On instinct, he grabbed Louis’ hips, pulling him closer, while Louis’ fingers slid into his hair, messing up the curls. They kissed like there was no time left, like it was the last thing either of them got to do in this world.

Harry stumbled back until his shoulders were pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom. He chased Louis’ lips when he pulled back and Louis gave in easily, leaning back in for another heated kiss. He tasted of alcohol and juice and there was something else beneath, something that Harry couldn’t grasp, couldn’t name, but got him addicted in seconds.

Louis’ fingers fumbled with the button of Harry’s jeans, and for a moment, Harry thought he was dreaming. How had he ended up pressed against a wall with the hot boy he had shared biscuit dough with a few nights ago sliding his hand into Harry’s briefs? They hadn’t even exchanged a single word.

Every thought was blown from Harry’s mind when Louis curled his fingers around his cock. Harry gasped and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. Louis used the motion to attach his lips to Harry’s neck, sucking the skin beneath Harry’s jaw. It ended too soon and yet left Harry’s whole body  pulsing, throbbing, aching for more.

Louis dropped to his knees and Harry inhaled sharply. He buried his fingers in Louis’ and groaned when Louis shoved down his jeans along with his briefs. Hot, moist breath ghosted over his hard cock, and Harry thought he could feel it when Louis licked his own lips, humming in appreciation.

Harry’s mind went blank the moment Louis took him into his mouth. He pulled Louis’ hair, making him moan around Harry’s cock. It was a vibrating sensation, his cock throbbing with how good it felt. It got even better when Louis started to suck him in earnest.

With a plop, Louis drew back, his eyes radiant blue when they met Harry’s. They were both panting and Louis used Harry’s legs to pull himself up again. He immediately went in for a kiss and Harry met him halfway, tongue first. It was messy and wet, Louis tasting of Harry’s precome, and yet, still of himself. Harry had never tasted anything hotter.

Carefully, Louis maneuvered Harry over to the other side of the room. Harry wasn’t sure what he was up to, but he blindly trusted that whatever Louis had in mind was a good idea. He pushed Harry’s jeans all the way down and Harry stepped out of them, watching Louis getting rid of his own. He had beautiful thighs, built and thick, and the most beautiful cock. It was curved up to his stomach, fully hard, a thick vein at the underside throbbing.

Harry licked his lips.

Before he could take any action, though, Louis was back in charge, pushing Harry’s shoulders to make him sit on the toilet. He hissed at the cold contact of his heated skin and the porcelain, but forgot about it as soon as Louis straddled his lap. Harry brought his hands up to Louis’ hips, moving them around to touch that perfectly rounded bum.

He pulled the cheeks apart, seeing Louis’ mouth fall open, and it encouraged him to move his fingers further and press one curious tip to Louis’ flattering hole. Louis moaned and leaned in again to kiss Harry. They moved like that for a while, kissing and their leaking cocks rubbing together in frantic thrusts of their hips. Harry thought he was going to come from just that, so he mewled in protest when Louis shifted, breaking the contact.

Louis’ cock smeared precome against Harry’s abs, and Harry’s cock easily slid between Louis’ cheeks that he was still pulling and kneading. Harry looked up into Louis’ eyes, finding him already staring back. He tentatively rocked his hips up and his cock glided deliciously against Louis’ hole.

They had no condom, no lube, so this would have to do, but Harry would enjoy every single second of it. Louis’ was way too dry, but Harry’s precome smeared over his skin with every motion, easing the glide. Louis moved one hand from Harry’s shoulders between them and started to jerk himself off. Harry pressed his nails deeper into the skin of Louis’ bum, knowing he’d leave marks. The thought only turned him on further.

Louis closed his eyes, pushed forward and bit his bottom lip when he came. His come spilled hot over Harry’s stomach, leaving white streaks covering his skin. Harry watched him, panting, and feeling the heat curl in his spine. A second later, he came, too, his come spurting between Louis’ cheeks, against his hole and dripping down between them.

For a moment, they stayed like that; one of Louis’ hands buried in Harry’s long hair, the other on his own cock, and Harry’s hands still cupping Louis’ bum. They stared at each other, trying to catch their breaths. Louis was the first to lean in, stealing another kiss before he slid from Harry’s lap. Harry wanted to protest, wanted to keep him right there, but Louis trailed his lips over Harry’s chest and stomach, lapping up his own come with his tongue. Harry’s cock gave another twitch in interest.

Louis looked up and smirked, then he leaned in and licked Harry’s now almost soft cock clean. Harry hissed at how over-sensitive he was, but at the same time, he wanted Louis to go on, to suck him back into full hardness and let Harry fuck his mouth until they’d both blank out.

He could see in Louis’ eyes that he was down with that idea, but before he could follow it through, they were rudely interrupted by someone knocking the door. In French, someone yelled loudly, and Harry didn’t understand a word. Louis, however, pulled his lips away and started giggling. He stood up and collected his clothes, his body looking nothing short of glorious, even in the superficial, yellow light of the tiny bathroom.

He quickly got dressed and Harry was still too hazed to comprehend what was happening, so he just watched every delicious part of skin disappear beneath pieces of clothing. Then Louis turned to him and handed Harry his clothes. He leaned in and gingerly kissed Harry, all tongue and teeth, with a great deal of hunger still lingering beneath. When he pulled back, Harry whined, reaching out to pull him back, but Louis was already gone. He went to the door and winked at Harry, then he sneaked out.

For a moment, Harry could only stare at the door, expecting Louis to come back in any moment and jump his bones. Loud noise was tickling through the walls, chatter and music, and Harry realised that Louis wouldn’t come back, and that he would have to get out of this bathroom before someone else was walking in, seeing Harry sit on a shut loo with his cock out.

He quickly put on his jeans and then remembered that his shirt was still drenched. Topless, he left the bathroom and sneaked into Niall’s room without getting any comments for walking around the party with his top off. He changed into a new shirt, and had only one mission after that: finding Louis.

He couldn’t find him in the living room or kitchen, and he couldn’t ask anyone, because apart from Niall, Harry knew no one on this party. He leaned against the fridge, sorting his options.

Apparently, Louis had left the house already. If Harry were to find him, what would come off it? He was going to leave early in the morning, so all he could get was probably another -- admittedly mind-blowing -- quickie in some toilet or other hidden place.

There was nothing he could do. French boy Louis would stay a wonderful memory on the short list of Harry’s one-night stands. And without a doubt, French boy Louis also topped that list, leaving the two other guys far, far behind.

~*~

London greeted him back with rain and his daily routine quickly catching up to him. Harry missed Niall, but being back with his flatmates and friends was nice, too. He went to uni, worked his shifts in the bakery and went out with Ed and Nick for pints every other evening. Sometimes he’d come home to Liam and Sophia having cooked dinner or they spent the nights sitting in the kitchen and talk about God and the Earth until the early morning hours.

Everything was back to normal, and yet, sometimes, Harry would think of Louis. It only crossed his mind at the most random moments. When he was in uni and someone mentioned great style, when he was at a party and drank too much of a bright blue cocktail because it tasted just so much like Louis did, and when he lay in bed at night, trying to find sleep.

Harry hadn’t even told Niall about Louis. How should he explain it anyway? He was completely infatuated with a bloke he had shared some biscuit dough with before they had had a one-night stand? And yet, Harry didn’t even know that boy’s voice. Not exactly, at least. He knew what he sounded like when he was moaning, and when Harry was giggling, but he hadn’t heard him say a single word.

It was ridiculous and Harry should just get over it, store the memory away as a pleasant one-night stand, an adventure in Paris, and be done with it. He wasn’t quite sure why he couldn’t do that, or why he couldn’t forget about Louis altogether, but he figured it would happen sooner rather than later.

He wasn’t so sure about that anymore when 3 months later, he was still thinking about Louis occasionally.

“What’s on your mind?” Liam asked when he came into their sitting room.

Harry made some space on the sofa for Liam to sit down. “I’m just tired.”

Liam crossed his legs and yawned. “Any plans for tonight?”

“I’ll go over to Niall’s.” Harry glanced at the telly. “He’s coming back tomorrow and I want to get his flat in the right state.”

“You wanna trash the place,” Liam clarified.

“Just a little.” Harry grinned and raised a brow. “You wanna help?”

“Sure thing.”

Niall had given Harry a key to his flat for him to sometimes check on it, as well as water the few plants Niall kept there. Harry wasn’t sure those had made it through the six months Niall had been away, but he had tried his best. Maybe Liam would’ve been better for the job.

They took the tube, and it was uncharacteristically crowded for a late Thursday afternoon. Harry let Liam take a seat and gripped the rail above his head to keep his balance. Liam was talking about what they could have for dinner, and they decided to get some takeaway on their way back home.

After two stations, the guy next to Liam stood up and left the train, so Harry took the seat. He laughed at something Liam said, but caught a familiar presence to his right. He tried to look past a guy eating a sandwich and spotted a guy with a familiar body get off the train.

“Louis,” Harry said, blinking. “Louis,” he repeated then, louder.

And it was him. He turned and looked around in confusion. Those blue eyes and sharp cheekbones, Harry would recognise everywhere. He wore a beanie that covered his hair, but Harry was still sure that it was no one else than Louis who had just left the train at Wood Green.

The tube started moving again and Harry watched Louis still looking around in confusion without spotting Harry. He shrugged and moved on, and Harry lost sight of him.

“You know that guy?” Liam wanted to know.

“I--” Harry turned to him, nodding dumbly. “I met him in Paris.”

Liam tilted his head. “In Paris?”

“When I visited Niall,” Harry explained. “We shared some dough in a club.”

“What?” Liam looked confused, furrowing his brows.

“It’s a long story. But it was nice.” Harry shrugged, sitting back again. “He was nice.”

“Is he a student, too?” Liam asked.

Harry pursed his lips. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“We never talked,” Harry admitted.

Liam’s brows shot up now. “You just said he was nice.”

“He… was?”

“I see how it is,” Liam said, nodding smugly. “You slept with him.”

Harry felt the blush creep up his cheeks.

“Is ‘sharing dough in a club’ a new euphemism for a one-night stand in a toilet stall now?”

“Fuck off,” Harry mumbled. He crossed his arms. “It wasn’t like that.”

Liam hummed. “What was it like, then?”

“It was in the bathroom of  Niall’s flat,” Harry clarified.

“That’s so different.” Liam laughed, getting up when they reached Manor House. Harry followed him, still pouting at Liam making fun of him. “So you really never talked to him?”

“He’s French. Have you ever heard me say anything French?” Harry snorted.

“That cinema line, yeah.” Liam turned to him when they went up the stairs to leave the station. “Maybe he speaks English?”

“It seems so, since he’s here now,” Harry mused.

“Shame he didn’t spot you. I would’ve liked to see that reunion.” Liam laughed again.

Harry kicked Liam’s shin, but didn’t comment on it. Maybe that hadn’t been Louis? Maybe Harry had just seen what he had wanted to see? After all, Harry had been thinking about it all this time. It had only been a matter of time before he’d start seeing ghosts.

It had probably not been Louis, after all.

~*~

Nevertheless, Harry went to Wood Green station the next day. He waited there around the same time as the day before, looking around the platform. People rushed past him, and Harry watched one train come and go after another.

A few times, he thought to have seen Louis again, but it always turned out to be someone else. A guy with a baseball cap who dashed into one of the coaches a second before the doors closed, someone with a small and compact body making their way through the masses, and then just the wiff of a cologne that smelled like skin beneath Louis’ ear had smelled.

Shaking his head, Harry got back on the train after a while. Of course he had seen ghosts. It was completely impossible that someone French was strolling around a place like this.

He sat down with a sigh, a woman with a baby beside him shifting a little to make space. Harry smiled at her reassuringly. When he looked up again, his eyes met another pair instantly.

The train started moving and Harry couldn’t even blink, his eyes fixed on Louis’ face. He stood on the platform and was staring at Harry with the same unbelieving expression Harry had to show right now.

It was a second, then Harry lost sight of him. Of Louis. Of the boy he had shared biscuit dough with in a club in France. The boy he had had steamy sex with in a bathroom of Niall’s shared flat. Louis, who was in London.

Louis in London.

Harry was going to lose his mind.

~*~

“You seem a little jittery.”

Harry shrugged, putting away the paper bag he’d been fiddling with. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

Ed hummed and took off his apron, folding it over his arm. “If you’re up for a pint later, give me a call. Nick’s busy, but Niall’s already texted he’d come. Maybe you could bring Liam and Sophia?”

“If they’re up for it.” Harry nodded, watching Ed leave the shop. He made sure no customer was around and pulled out his mobile, texting Liam to meet them later and to bring Sophia.

His shift got dragged out by very few customers coming in and Harry sighed, watching the time tick away on the big clock above the entrance to the shop. Helen was in the back cleaning up the kitchen and Harry wished they could swap.

He was about to doze off when the door finally opened. About to greet the customer, Harry froze in his spot, feeling his blood run cold for a moment before a rush jolted through his body and left his veins pulsing.

It had been two weeks since he had seen Louis in the tube. Two weeks in which he had strolled around Green Wood station every other afternoon, just to go home doubting himself again.

But he was here now. Standing right there in front of Harry.

“Oh fuck,” Harry breathed, and still didn’t dare moving. “You’re here. And you probably don’t understand what I’m saying, or you do, because you’re in England and that means you have to speak English, but I’ve wanted to meet you again so badly, and I can’t believe you’re here.”

The words just babbled out of his mouth, Harry couldn’t help it. He stared at Louis, suspended in time, and scared that Louis would just turn around and leave.

“You’re really not French,” was the first thing Louis said. And his voice was beautiful. Raspy and high-pitched, fitting that sharp and soft body, two contradictions aligning perfectly. And he didn’t have an accent.

“ _You’re_ not French,” Harry replied.  

“I thought you were, but when I saw you the other day…” Louis shrugged. “It took me a while to get in contact with Niall.”

“You know Niall?” Harry blinked, trying to make sense of it.

Louis shrugged. “Briefly. We were both exchange students in Paris at the same time, after all.” He took a step closer. “When I saw you in the tube, I realised that you weren’t any of his friends from France.”

“I visited him for a few days.” Harry swallowed, watching Louis closely.

For a moment, they stayed silent, looking at each other, then Louis broke it with a laugh. “I can’t believe we didn’t talk to each other once.”

Harry bit his lip, trying to hold in his own laughter. “It just didn’t seem necessary?”

Louis hummed and stepped even closer, standing directly in front of the counter. “It would’ve saved me a lot of sleepless nights.”

With a jump, Harry’s heart kicked out of rhythm, speeding up its pace in his chest. He crossed his arms on the counter, keeping his eyes on Louis. “Same here.”

“That’s good to hear,” Louis said. He reached out and carefully touched a curl, brushing it behind Harry’s ear. “I’d like to change that.”

Harry caught his hand, tangling their fingers. “I’d really like that, too.”

~*~

Harry woke up to warm sunlight trickling over his face. He stirred slightly and smiled when he noticed the warm lips trailing down his spine. With a sigh, he melted into his pillow and enjoyed the caresses of lips and hands on his skin.

“Morning, love,” Louis greeted him in a raspy, still sleepy voice.

Harry turned around so he could face Louis and smiled, eyes still not fully open. “Morning. And what a good one it is, indeed.”

Louis ran his fingertips over Harry’s arm and down to his hand, lacing his fingers with Harry’s. His thumb brushed over the thin silver band on Harry’s ringfinger.

They had arrived late last night, and hadn’t done more than falling into the comfortable king size bed of their hotel room. It was probably late morning by now, maybe already noon, but Harry didn't care. They had needed the sleep. They had both finished uni this month, and the last few exams had been exhausting.

After Harry’s last exam, Louis had surprised him with the ring and two plane tickets to Paris.

“Hey,” Louis mumbled, leaning in to gingerly kiss Harry’s lips. “Care to join me for a quickie in the bathroom?”

Harry laughed, shoving Louis’s shoulder. “Not romantic!”

“But certainly nostalgic,” Louis argued, dragging Harry out of bed with him.

Harry followed easily, winding his arms around Louis’ waist from behind. “Well, when in Paris…”

Louis turned his head, pursing his lips. “No talking.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Harry rolled his eyes, but kissed Louis all the same.

There was a lot of talking.

~*~*~

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
